Until My Dying Day
by Kathasaurus
Summary: He does it. She does her best to forget she ever did. Hermione's soul is not the one in need of healing this time around.


Until My Dying Day By: Katherine Grace  
  
Chapter 1  
  
As I sit here in this dank darkness, I think about him. The man who made my life what it was. What it was. For I am not really here. I am naught but a corpse that breathes. I am a useless waste of a human being. That was one of his favorite phrases. Forever it is implanted in my brain. He was right. I am useless. I am a terrible excuse for a man and I do not deserve to live. Others tell me that they forgive me, but what they don't realize is that I cannot be forgiven. I am not good enough for that. All that I am good enough for is that vial of Arsenic draught on my workbench.  
The memories are flashing faster and faster. I wish they would stop, for they are blinding me. No time to reach for the potion. I snatch the slicing knife off my belt and take it to my wrist. I stare down at the new cut. Though it hurts, I am grateful for it. I would rather suffer my deserved pain physically.  
The wound is bleeding freely now but I do not care. I wish that I would just slip from consciousness for the last time. I am brought back by a shrewd ringing. It's time for dinner and the headmaster will be expecting me. 'A glamour should do the trick.' I sigh as I heal and conceal the new scar.  
I had just barely taken my seat when I felt an annoyance approaching. I turn to see Professor Granger, new teacher of Transfiguration and Head of Gryffindor not a foot away.  
"May I help you Ms. Granger?" I ask with a glare.  
She rolled her eyes at his use of her formal title. "Yes actually. I was just speaking with Albus about the new timetables for this term. It seems my 4th years are supposed to be in my class and yours at the same time. I asked Albus as to what is to be done, but he is quite busy and has asked you and I to work it out." When he didn't respond she barged on. "And as we can't get all of them time turners by tomorrow, we need to work this out tonight."  
She admitted that the joke was lame, but even the smallest of smirks would be better than the daggers he continued to shoot at her.  
Her nerves were starting to wiggle by the time he finally spoke. "Be in my office at 9o'clock Ms. Granger."  
"Will do. And the name's Hermione." This last statement got a bit of a rise out of him, but she had left too soon to see it.  
  
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Hermione made sure to be in the dungeons at 9o'clock sharp. Why, she did not know. He was no longer her Professor so her respect towards him was no longer a given. But something else had pushed her to be there at his requested time. Something in his eyes. Of course, she knew that he was one of the best around when it came to hiding your emotions, but she saw something there that she didn't think he meant for her to. She saw pleading. He had the look of an animal in need of help after being hurt but growls and claws at any that approach. He looked like a man in need of help.  
Her ponderings were interrupted by the opening of a door.  
"You're late." He said. Hermione started. Her thoughts had made her lose track of the time in which she was so careful at keeping track. 'Damn it.' She thought.  
"Well, come in." He said moodily. "Sit."  
"I would really rather you not address me as though I were a dog. We're colleagues now, remember?" She said with a sigh. This was going to be a long night.  
"Of course, forgive me Madam, please be as kind as to take a seat." He said in an overly chivalrous manner that made her sick.  
"You're sarcasm is not appreciated. We really need to work this out before tomorrow, and I don't know about you, but I for one am getting some sleep tonight."  
She then proceeded to flop down on a chair behind his workbench and open the file folder she had brought along. "Now, the students in question are- oh bugger!" Her whole stack of papers had tipped off the table and now lay littered about the stone floor. Before he could stop her, she had dived under the table to recover them. There she found something that made her jaw drop. She was only grateful that she had not made an audible gasp. There under the chair was a beautifully carved knife; the kind used in potion making. It was covered in what looked mysteriously like blood, and the initials "S.S." were branded on the handle. Hermione gathered the rest of the papers quickly, and did her best to act naturally.  
When she re-emerged he was silent. He knew what she had found. For a moment there was silence, and then. . . "Get out! Leave!" Hermione was in such a state of shock at what had just been confirmed for her that she didn't take the time to consider arguing. Instead she bolted for his door, the timetables clutched firmly in her fist.  
She was willing to bet that she had just made record time from one end of the castle to the other, but that was not her main concern as she landed gracelessly on her sofa. 'He's suicidal. Oh my lord. He's suicidal. My lord. What do I do?' was the cycle of her thought process. 'Should I tell Dumbledore? No. Snape is unstable, who knows what he might do if I do.' After about twenty more minutes of fearful thoughts, Hermione began to relax a bit. She had stopped breathing heavily, and her heart rate slowed, but her brain was going somewhere she didn't want it to. Back to memories that she had forbid it access to. Back to a time in her life that she didn't want to remember. Back to a time, when she must have been thinking the same way as him.  
  
A/N: Sorry to have to leave you there, but it's past 8 and I need some food before I faint. Leave me a line if you like it. I plan to continue even if you don't, but positive input will only inspire me to write faster. Thanks for reading. -Kat 


End file.
